


The Labours of Gregorious

by annie_reckson



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece, Historical, Lestrade is a badass, M/M, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 02:46:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1923807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annie_reckson/pseuds/annie_reckson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Driven mad by Hera, Gregorios slew his six sons and wife. After recovering his sanity, he deeply regretted his actions and  was purified by King Thespius, then traveled to Delphi to inquire how he could atone for his actions. There the oracle Pythoness advised him to reside at Tyrins and serve King Eurystheus for twelve years, performing whatever labour might beset him; in return, he would be rewarded with immortality. Gregorios despaired at this, loathing to serve a man whom he knew to be far inferior to himself, yet fearing to oppose his father Zeus. Eventually he placed himself at Eurystheus's disposal.</p><p>After completing his first task - the murder of the Nemean lion - he is sent to destroy the fearsome Hydra, a task he will not complete alone</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a part of the Sherlock Rare Pairs Bingo! 
> 
> It's a little rough, I admit, definitely something I want to patch up when I have time. 
> 
> But as someone who has been a bit of a nerd when it comes to Greek mythology, I couldn't resist when one of the prompts was "Dragon." Especially when I found out that both "John" and "Greg" have Greek roots.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The combination of terror and disgust written across on Eurystheus’s face was, truly, all he really wanted. Even if he hadn't realised it until this moment. The shameful mewling the pitiful man was trying so hard to hide made the heat and weight from the lion skin draped down Gregorios’s shoulders and back absolutely worth the soreness. He smiled viciously and dragged his tongue along his lips, knowing that Eurystheus was watching him lick the threads of sweet, coppery feline blood still running down his face.

Gregorios doesn’t listen much to the shaky words tumbling out of the king’s mouth, only catching the part about his horrific display unsettling the poor man so much so that now Gregorios is now expected to showcase his victories outside of the city's gates, to avoid offending those with delicate sensibilities. Which is perfectly fine with him, the less time he spends with this inferior excuse for a man, the better.

But there’s suddenly a wryness in the king’s expression when it comes time for Eurystheus to give him his next task. It doesn’t surprise him that the creature is something horrible created by Hera herself - it is, after all, her fault that he’s in this infernal situation in the first place - but the description of the creature still chills him.

Eurystheus, of course, notices this and seems to take great glee in describing the Hydra to Gregorios: a nine-headed monstrosity that dwelled in a swamp near Lerna. Huge, practically immortal, and surrounded by poisonous fumes. Not exactly the way he’d like to spend a few days, but he doesn’t really have a choice, not if he wants to complete his redemption. And nothing will feel right unless he’s fully able to atone for his sins.

He shrugs away a flash of his wife’s face before anyone can notice and turns to finally take his leave from the insipid mortal and his sycophantic hanger-ons. Luckily, his travels have taken him  far and wide enough that the way to Lerna is already etched in his brain as he exits the palace. His desire to get through this latest quest propels him through the city streets, mind so focused on his next labour that the citizens of Tyrins become little more than a blur.

That is, until his sights fall on a small child being carried by its mother. With deep, brown eyes and wispy brunette hair, looking far too much like his youngest son for him to feel comfortable with. The child locks eyes on him as it sucks his thumb and Gregorios can feel his pulse elevating in panic. In his confusion, he begins to ignore his surroundings and very nearly barrels into a familiar face, only saved because the other man noticed him first and grasped him by the shoulders.

Gregorios attention is immediately on the man in front of him, and grins when he recognises him, “Ioannes?”

The fair-haired man smiles hesitantly, “Gregorios, is that you? Under all that fur? And...teeth?”

“Ah, this. Just a small souvenir from the Nemean lion.”

“Oh really? Just a small one?”

Gregorios chuckles, “What brings you to Tyrins, dear Ioannes? I heard you were in the war?”

He watches his friend’s face fall as he absentmindedly rotates his right shoulder,  “Received a bit of an injury, I’m afraid. I’m not....well...I’m not much use in battle right now. So they have me acting as a....a messenger.”

“Oh.”

Gregorios finds himself at a loss. There was a time not too long past when the two of them fought side by side, Ioannes being one of the mightiest warriors Gregorios had ever seen. He was certainly on the shorter side, but he used it as an advantage, allowing the enemy to underestimate him while he swooped in and made quick work of all who challenged him. And his bravery on the battlefield was nigh unmatched, he had even saved Gregorios’s life once against an overzealous assailant. But to see him reduced to a messenger, when he was still so young and capable, broke something inside Gregorios.

“A man such as yourself is worth far more than that,” Gregorios finds himself finally saying.

Ioannes looks taken aback, “I’m sorry?”

“Look...I...” Gregorios sighs deeply before continuing, “I know you’re probably busy, but it’s so heartening to see a friendly face such as yours. If it’s alright, I’d rather not explain my complete circumstances to you, but know that this past period of time has not been kind to me. And I am paying my penance for that. But I see in your face someone that I’d like to have in my travels.”

“Your travels?”

“Dear Ioannes, I have been...commanded...to slay the dreaded Hydra that resides in the swamps of Lake Lerna. Will you come with me?”

“The Hydra? Oh, Zeus yes.”

“Really?”

“Sounds fantastic, to be honest.”

Gregorios looked at him solemnly, “It would be a pleasure to have your companionship on this quest.”

Ioannes casts his eyes downward, "Are you sure?"

The shuffle in stance is minute, if Gregorios were a lesser man he probably would have missed it. But he is not a lesser man, he is not a mere bug such as Eurystheus and his ilk, so the movement does not fail to catch his eye: Ioannes shifts his weight, subtly drooping his posture before catching himself and forcing the rigidity back into his shoulders. It was a harsh reminder that the battle-hardened soldier in front of him was much more damaged than he remembered.

And he realized that was exactly why he needed Ioannes on this task with him. Where Gregorios knew he could be brash, insolent, and foolhardy in the name of bravery and conquest, Ioannes was stoic, careful, and thorough. And very easy on the eyes, even if he had a bit more tan and a tad more grey than when Gregorios had last seen him.

He clapped his hand onto Ioannes uninjured shoulder and gave him a small, trusting smile, "It would be a great honour to have you supporting me, if you desire to do so."

The grin Ioannes gives him is eager and genuine though brief, the hunger for being needed surreptitiously satiated. He drops off a message - hopefully his last one - before they stroll past the city gates and Gregorios smiles to himself as he watches the mental weight shake from his shoulders. Yes, Ioannes will make the perfect companion.

 

***

 

The crackles of their campfire and their own chewing are the only sounds Gregorios can hear through the night air. He watches across the flames as Ioannes tugs the blackened meat off of one of the boar’s femurs. There is always something greedier in a man’s actions when a kill results from his own hands. And Gregorios smiles when he remembers the thrill in Ioannes’s eyes when he’d slit the boar’s throat as Gregorios wrestled it to the ground.

Lerna wasn’t far away, but Gregorios had decided to spread their journey out into two days rather than one; if Hera had truly created something and raised it with the sole intent to destroy him, he would be better served if he were well-rested. And Ioannes would be more useful to him after an adequate amount of sleep. Not that he was certain he would even need Ioannes there with him, but something tugged at him as he stared at the stout, hardened man who’d chosen to come with him. Chosen danger and possible death over the safety that he had rightfully earned by his own service. A distaste for complacency was something Gregorios could definitely get behind.

Ioannes sighs at him as he finishes his meal, “I’ve heard stories about the Hydra, of its multiple heads, its immortality, and its ferocity, but is there anything we know about it for certain?”

Gregorios’s eyes darkened, “Only what Eurystheus saw fit to tell me: it is a nine-headed dragon surrounded by poisonous vapors that emits poison of its own. We will have to cover our faces to avoid the noxious fumes. Of its ferocity I am certain, but I will not let Hera defeat me.”

A moment of silence beat between them, “Do you have a plan?” Ioannes finally asked.

“Eurystheus made a mistake when he was explaining the creature to me.”

“What?”

Gregorios smirked, “His arrogance may have gotten the best of him. He happened to mention that one of the Hydra’s many heads is immortal.”

Ioannes looked confused, “But what does that mean? How does that help us?”

The shadows cast from the flames made his grin seem wicked, “It means that the other eight heads are, indeed, mortal. It is by ridding the monster of those that I shall defeat it.”

As the fire died down, the chill of the night air became more apparent and Ioannes started yawning. Gregorios doesn’t hesitate to tug him close against his chest and lay them both near the fading embers for warmth.

 

***

 

Really, the Lernean swamps are not difficult to find, and even if they weren’t, the smell would absolutely give them away. Once they get close enough that Gregorios is concerned for their safety - particularly the safety of the man travelling with him - he has Ioannes tear off two large pieces from an extra linen shirt to tie around the bottom half of their faces. It’s not perfect, but it’s sufficient enough to protect them from inhaling something dangerous.

As they traipse further into the swamp, the cave that the Hydra dwells in comes into view. The opening is large and dark, the unmistakable sounds of a large monster roaring can be heard from where they stand. They stand still for a moment, contemplating their next move.

Ioannes spoke first, “Should you...should we....would it be wise to go in there after it?”

Gregorios shook his head, “No, that wouldn’t be wise. We need to draw it out of its den in order to defeat it. Who knows the various ways it could trap us if we let it.”

“So how do you plan on drawing it out?”

He grit his teeth, “Grab the fat from the boar out of your bag.”

Ioannes watches him as he carefully pulls his arrows out and rolls the animal fat around the tips until they’re completely covered. He pulls his bow out and stretches it a few times before lighting the arrows on fire one by one and shooting them into the cave and around the entrance. The heat only made the smell worse and the gases more potent, making Gregorios grateful for the cloth covering his face.

Within moments, a giant roar echoed from the cave and over the swamp, noticeably shaking Ioannes, although Gregorios was wont to notice that Ioannes tried hard to avoid showing it. Instead, the sandy-haired man only exhaled deeply and gave a nod to Gregorios as the sound of the monster stomping towards them sounded over the murky water.

Gregorios held in a gasp when the Hydra finally appeared, a behemoth screeching from all different directions as its multiple heads moved in a myriad of directions. He braced himself, holding his sword in one hand and waiting for the Hydra to advance to their position; he needed it as far away from its lair as possible. He could feel the shudder coming from Ioanne and was relieved when he turned around and saw him still standing there, braced for battle just as Gregorios was.

With a muffled shout, he ran towards the spitting dragon, sword raised and ready to strike. One of the heads whipped towards him, jaws stretched out as if ready to bite. Without hesitation, he reaches out with his other hand to grasp it and slice his sword swiftly through it, the discarded head flopping uselessly into the swamp.

His grin of triumph only lasts a moment before, in horror, he watches two heads grow from the empty stump of the one he just cut off. Two heads that seemed more fearsome than the one before them. In a panic, he lashes out and slices off three more heads before realising his error. And now the nine-headed dragon has turned into a thirteen headed monstrosity and Gregorios is starting to worry about his odds.

A hoarse cry comes from behind him, “DO IT AGAIN!”

He whips his whole body around, only to find that the Hydra has wrapped its tail around his leg, restricting his movement. In vain, he tries to wrench his leg away, only to be tugged further backwards. Ioannes’s voice calls to him again, and this time their eyes meet, his companion’s eyes full of the certainty he needs right at that moment.

His voice is even more earnest this time, “Trust me, please? Cut off another head!”

It’s not as if he has another option. The only thing he knows for certain right now is that the head in the center is definitely the most important one. Other than that...he can only trust the confidence in Ioannes’s eyes as he steps forward with a large torch in his hand.

Gregorios is not one to follow the commands of any mere mortal, he regrets even debasing himself under the direction of the infernal King Eurystheus, but for some reason he finds himself trusting any order Ioannes would give him. And so it is without hesitation he raises his sword again and strikes down on one of the Hydra’s many heads.

Ioannes steps forward immediately and presses the torch to the stump, burning it and causing the Hydra to screech in pain and loosen its hold on Gregorios’s leg. They both jump back a safe distance and wait to hope that Ioannes’s plan worked. As they watch, the stump wiggles aggressively but never regenerates. The main head, the one in the center, seems to notice and focus its attention on the burned stump momentarily in confusion, before screeching again at Gregorios.

After that, Gregorios makes short work of the Hydra, giving Ioannes a wide grin every time he successfully chars one of the stumps after Gregorios cuts off one of the heads. He has never been a person to champion teamwork, always believing more in the idea of his own superiority than the need to trust another person. Before, he had never truly needed the assistance of another person, less even that of a pure mortal, but not he was relishing the thrill of this perfect camaraderie.

He knew many of those positive feelings could be blamed on the looks of glee plastered across the face of Ioannes.

A face covered in the red but not even caring, much like his own. Every severance brought another stripe of the Hydra’s thick blood flung across their faces like war paint, until it seemed like both were wearing it as a second skin. Gregorios let loose a primeval cry as his sword sliced through the last head, the final head and watched it limply land on the ground.

Fierce adrenaline coursed through his body and before he could think, he had snatched Ioannes’s head forward until their mouths were crushing together. He made a note to figure out later what Ioannes actually tasted like, underneath the bitter copper of the Hydra’s blood mingled with aggression and fear. There was a faint hint of it now, and he tilted his head further forward trying to catch more.

Ioannes’s fingers were spread across his chest, mingling with the sweat and blood running through his coarse hair. After a moment, he pushed back, barely, just until their noses were brushing.

Ioannes tilted his head towards the last head twitching angrily at their feet, “We should probably dispose of that, yeah?”

Gregorios smiled and framed Ioannes’s face with his stained hands, “I’m sure we can find a good burial spot.”


End file.
